Keeping Score
by Zombs
Summary: When he looked at her, it was Katherine's face. When she spoke, it Katherine's voice. Fourth chapter is up!
1. An apology

**A/N: I do not own Vampire Diaries. **

**First fanfic, so all feedback is appreciated. May continue with story if yall want, so let me know! :)  
**

It wasn't supposed to turn into what it did. Hell, they weren't supposed to have even been alone together. However, Elena waited seemingly longer and longer as the afternoon's light dipped into night for Stefan to return. As her nerves began to shatter anxiously for her love, pacing seemed like the only option now, considering she'd already called his cell about a dozen times. This strong independent woman was not the type to be so paranoid and clingy, and she wouldn't of that twice about his absence if this were just a spur of the moment visit to the Salvatore estate. Though, earlier she'd gotten a text message from the vanished man to meet her there after school, and she was beginning to become struck with fear.

It was just a few months ago that she hadn't even heard of the fear she felt presently. If someone was late or missing, it was deliberate, due to some sort of almost daily high school drama. Yet the fear she felt then was that gut-wrenching, panic for his well-being. After all, the scary stories she'd heard as a child were coming true before her eyes. Part of her wouldn't be surprised anymore to see the Easter bunny waltzing down the stairs of the Salvatore mansion any time now.

"Would you sit down or something? You're driving me insane." The biting words of Damon Salvatore came without their usual harsh tone, and Elena complied to his demand, finding a spot for herself on the couch beside his chair, wringing her hands now. The elder brother had been at least in the same room since he greeted her at the door. Well, _greeted_ seemed a bit too animated for the melancholy vampire. Opened the door and sulked wordlessly back to the living room was more appropriate.

Damon's change in attitude was startling at first. Hell, she could've considered herself concerned for his mental state after he discovered Katherine's absence in the tomb. But as the days turned into weeks, and he had barely moved if only to eat or fetch another book, it was becoming more frustrating than anything else. In her opinion, if the person she loved had left her to believe they were locked in a tomb for all eternity, only to learn that really she'd just been used and lied to all this time… To be honest, she couldn't exactly say what she'd do, but moping around wouldn't be an option.

"Poor saintly Stefan," Damon cooed snidely, eyes not leaving the pages of his book. "Perhaps he was real hungry and tried to take on a fox, and the baby-bunny diet has kept him far too weak. Perhaps, he's laying in the forest right now, bleeding to the edge of his life, whilst the animals feed on him? Wouldn't that be ironic?"

"Don't Damon." She said quickly, standing and beginning the pace again, arms crossed over her chest. She had to admit though it was the most she'd heard him say since that fateful night at the tomb.

Damon's eyes scanned her demeanor, and almost chuckled to himself if he had the drive to do so. Waiting hours for her precious _Saintly_ Stefan, like a devoted puppy awaiting their master's arrival. Pathetic, he thought to himself, and decided it was officially happy-hour. Scratch that. However, 'numb the pain time' just didn't have the same roll-of-the-tongue. Standing at the trolley, he glanced back at Elena, remembering the sight of her head lolled back, crimson liquid sliding down that delectable throat. Carefree, like Katherine.

With that, he poured another glass half-full of the bourbon, and placed himself in the way of her long strides. She startled with that same wide eyed expression, lips parted slightly as she took in a quick breath, a strand of hair falling perfectly imperfectly on that face. _Katherine's _face.

"Drink?" He offered, the corner of his lips pulling painfully up the faintest bit. The fraction of a second she just stared at him, as if attempting to understand his game, but before he could come out with some reason to justify her actions for her, she took the glass, much to his surprise.

Katherine had always surprised him.

Her eyes kept on his as she brought the glass up to her lips, a part of her brain nagging at her as to why this was wrong. Drinking with Damon was not a smart plan, but the dread in her gut was almost agonizing as it guided her hand to tip the drink back and soothe its ache. She felt better and worse simultaneously.

It wasn't long before Damon had wheeled the trolley next to the couch, keeping it within arm's reach if need be. The two had sat in silence for the first half hour of their drinking. Elena tried to will her thoughts to go back to Stefan, and worrying about his disappearing act, and not on the black haired brother seating too close to her. Damon kept staring at her, his expression prompting so many questions within her. The answers she could almost guess, but she wanted to know for sure.

It wasn't until the second drink was halfway done that she finally spoke up, against her better judgment. "Is it hard?"

Damon's eyes widened in disbelief, and Elena could feel her cheeks filling with blood as she caught her mistaken choice in words, "I mean, difficult, as in –"

"I know what you mean." Damon almost chuckled at the absurdity of where his mind had gone. Katherine wouldn't have asked, she'd have just grabbed and learned for herself. Katherine wouldn't have stumbled over her innuendos; she would have shot them out like a bullet from a pistol. And most of all, Katherine was _never_ shy.

Three for three.

"Some times are easier than others." Cryptic responses leave more to the imagination, which was not a good thing for a slightly buzzed girl.

She was lost within her own thoughts again, contemplating the mystery that was this brother. She felt through the misadventures they'd endured that she did have a better understanding of him than Bonnie, or Caroline. And she did seem to give him the better of her judgment, more so than his own brother did. Oh right. Stefan. The reason she was sitting beside Damon, the distance between them lessening as the night wore on. She needed to find Stefan. This wasn't like her. She loved Stefan.

But even within her own reverie of her thoughts it was beginning to sound more like a mantra than a belief. As if she was trying to convince herself rather than tell herself.

And then his hand was cupping her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing the soft skin there, and she no longer had a mantra. She no longer had thoughts.

If she didn't know him better, she would've assumed he'd compelled her.

"I'm sorry."

But the words weren't from her lips, and she was still not thinking as she looked at the lips that had passed the phrase so gently. Those same lips that were creeping closer to her as Damon leaned forward not for the first time.

Damon braced himself for the sting of her hand that had once slapped him for this act, but it never came. Even as they were millimeters apart, mouths parted, eyes boring into each others, and that hand moving from her face to her neck, stroking the vein that throbbed faster beneath his fingers.

It wasn't magic. There were no explosive fireworks. Just a thriving hunger for more as she closed the distance and caught his mouth in hers, her free hand gripping the material of his shirt as she pulled him closer. She wasn't sure what she was doing, and she was clear on expressing that as her properly graceful limbs tried to draw him in.

As he pulled away quickly, he didn't catch the startled and almost hurt expression on her flushed face as he quickly stood, leaving her disheveled on the couch.

"Get out." He growled, teeth grinding against themselves as he fought back the emotions he'd been trying to numb in the first place. She kissed like Katherine. Hurt turned quickly to anger and she too was on her feet, moving herself so she was in front of him.

"What the hell, Damon!" She exclaimed, and shoved him hard in the chest. He caught her wrist easily before she withdrew it and gripped it tightly in his hand, knowing full well the pain it would cause her.

"I said get out." And he walked away, leaving her alone in the room.

Four to three.


	2. Aftershock

**A/N: Hey, another first! My first second chapter! Thank you all for all the reviews and help! As I said, I've never done this before, so it really gave me the inspiration to keep on going! Let me know what you think of this chapter! I may rewrite it later, just had to keep going with it.**

**And no. I don't own the Vampire Diaries. I'm cool, not that cool. **

There were things you were supposed to do, should have done, would have done, and then there were things that had absolutely no beneficial value to your own mental well-being, and that was exactly what Damon Salvatore had done. He had successfully managed to do irreparable damage to his own psyche, in a matter of a few hours. It had only been 150 years since that had happened last. Big deal, right?

Sitting in the familiar arm chair of his bed room, he was no longer reading a book, nor staring into the fire in a deep trance. He was in fact, completely and incoherently drunk, having continued his little party from earlier. He had just needed to learn for himself. He needed to know for sure. He had to find out, he told himself so many times, like a mantra. After all these years why, of all times, of all people, did someone emerge themselves into this world as Katherine's long lost identical twin? What kind of sick world did he live in?

The kind of world he was constantly trying to dissolve away with any mean possible.

When he looked at her, he saw Katherine, not Elena. When he thought of _that __face, _it was Katherine's face, not Elena. When Elena spoke, it was Katherine's voice. Stefan may be able to pretend that he sees more behind those eyes. Hell, perhaps he's even convinced himself that they _were_ different. Damon knew better.

It might've been because he was smashed, or maybe he just didn't seem to care at that moment, but he didn't seem to hear the front door slamming. Nor the obviously determined stomps of his brother's footsteps climbing the stairs, following the long hallway to Damon's room.

"There wasn't _anything _out there, Damon, what were you talking about?" Stefan asked, perching himself on the floor in front of the older Salvatore's chair. "Are you drunk?" His brow furrowed into a disapproving expression, typical no-fun Saint Stefan. Damon didn't even acknowledge him outwardly, but his patience with his brother was slimming quickly, and he wasn't a level-headed problem-solver when he was sober, let alone now.

"Damon, I understand-"

"You don't understand a _damn_ thing." His black eyes glared coldly down to his little brother, and Stefan didn't break that hold. He may be younger, but when you've known someone for over a century and a half, you learn a few things about each other. Damon was hurting and he knew it. But he wasn't going to put up with his pouting for much longer.

Damon had said those words before, far too many times, in far too similar situations. It all came back to _her. _

"Okay Damon," Stefan sighed, and stood up straight. "Don't send me on anymore of your little wild goose chases." And with that, he left Damon alone to wallow in his inner torment. And oh how bittersweet it was.

"Sweet Saint Stefan," he scoffed, and lifted the bottle sitting between his legs. His brother was completely enamored with that impostor. An idea struck him. Not one of his more brilliant of master plans, but a plan nonetheless. With the bottle in hand, he rose to his feet, and promptly crashed into the floor with a loud bang.

Elena Gilbert was completely and utterly lost within herself. She had no explanation for what had transpired back at the Salvatore estate, and she was not ready to dive into the inner workings of her own deep rooted issues to try and figure it out. No, not in the state she was in. It had only been a drink and a half, and that fact alone wasn't comforting her any either. A drink and a half and she's ready to throw her inhibitions out the window. What would Stefan think? How was she going to tell him that in a moment of slight inebriation she'd completely gone back on her own values and betrayed him?

By the time she'd made it back to her own house she was drenched from the rain that had decided to fall on her as if a sign from the powers that be. They were reminding her of the wrong she'd done, of the actions she'd chosen. _They _were kind of jerks.

As she sat on her bed she debated writing in her journal the events that had happened. But voted against it. That would make it way too real. Too real than she wanted to acknowledge at the moment. On the other hand, she might be able to work out what had happened exactly and why.

On the other, _other_ hand (which she vaguely thought that expression should be changed to foot or something – which reminded her that she was still indeed drunk), she wasn't sure if she wanted to know why she did what she did.

She shouldn't have kissed Damon.

_She_ kissed _him_.

And then he just tossed her out! Like an old rug or broken lamp, discarded once there was no more use for it.

"He's got another thing coming!" She exclaimed, right full of piss and vinegar, but as she stood to march on out and back to the Salvatore estate, Elena was greeted with two hands gripping her shoulders roughly. Thrown swiftly onto the bed, she started to scream, but it was cut short as the figure had climbed on top of her before she could think, a hand covering her mouth.

"You have no right to look like her."

And then _he _kissed _her._

**A/N: I know, it's kinda light on anything substantial... all reviews and input welcome!! **


	3. Letting Go

_**A/N: Yeah, I know, another chapter so quick. It's because of the reviews. I've got a taste for blood now! I can't stop! Woo! I'm outta control! Hehe. Hope you like this chapter... And again. I do not own VD (vampire diaries, or vinerial diseases, either or XD )**_

"_You have no right to look like her."_

Those words hung in Elena's head for that entire sleepless night, and for the better half of the next week. Only seconds after the events took place Damon had practically flown out the window he came in from, and left her shaken on the bed. No, she wouldn't be drinking again anytime soon, she had told herself. Then why did she end up sneaking the bottle of vodka from Jenna's collection into her room at night, helping herself to a glass or two as she stared at her diary. She hadn't written a single word inside those pages since…

"_Get out."_

Nor had she spoken to Stefan, her supposed love. Oh, he had tried to contact her several times, even going through Aunt Jenna and Jeremy to do so, but with no such luck. Elena had completely withdrawn from the Salvatores. It was about time she tried to get on with her life. There was a time when she thought she could handle it. But after everything that had happened, being able to handle something and _wanting_ to handle it were two very different concepts.

She filled the glass again and realized that tall bottle that was once full now dripped it's last contents slowly, almost taunting her. She knew too well this wasn't something she should be doing, but then again, who is it that decides that? She never wanted to be miss goody two-shoes. She used to be fun, and spontaneous! She used to break the rules sometimes and stay out all night, sneaking in her bedroom window before dawn, so her parents would never be the wiser.

Elena remembered thinking about what would happen should they ever find out. Breaking their trust wasn't something she'd wanted, but the freedom was what she'd always craved. Everyone told her she was a good girl, a little angel, that she was so mature for her age. Part of her wanted to prove them wrong, part of her panicked at that kind of responsibility and those expectations.

Part of her wanted her parents to catch her. Just once, so that perfect image of her would be tainted, and maybe, just maybe, she could get a C on a paper, or maybe a detention.

A part of her admired Damon for this.

_Damon_. Her thoughts kept going back to those black eyes, and that smug smirk that played a constant role in his façade. People expected him to do bad things, and with that he had that freedom to do what he pleased. He could convince Caroline to do things for him, use and kill innocent people in order to save the one _he loved. _It was a sad realization on her part when she realized that if it came down to it, she would've done the same to get her parents back.

She snapped out of her reverie, and dropped the bottle on the floor beside where she was sitting, glad that tomorrow was Saturday and she could just sleep away everything she'd been mulling over while awake. Elena vaguely wondered why Damon chose to drink, because it sure didn't make things easier, not for her at least.

And Stefan… She groaned in frustration at the thought of him and buried her head into her hands. She didn't want to deal with this. Not now. With new vigor, she stood up a little shakily and made a decision to put this out of her mind. No longer was she going to wallow by herself when there were more interesting distractions out there. Elena didn't need the Salvatores or their messed up love triangles. She would forget about them both, and move on. If she could stop being miserable after her parents' death, she could do this after a few confusing and drunken kisses with Damon. Afterall, it was just a kiss. Well, two kisses. Actually, a kiss and a little bit of a make out session the second time.

"Right. Distraction." She mumbled, shaking her head from the thoughts. Bad thoughts. Elena grabbed her coat and turned to leave. Friday nights weren't for being isolated. They were for fun, and that's exactly what she was going to do.

The Grill was completely packed with life, and Elena was quite pleased with the attention she was getting. Bonnie and Caroline had gladly joined her when they saw her high spirits, simply because it wasn't a sight they got to see that often lately. After many attempts to try and figure out what was the cause, they gave up as Elena declared she was just in the mood for something different. The girls weren't complaining, seeing as a few of the high school graduates of last year had returned from college and were practically drooling over the girls. Drooling also involved a lot of free drinks, Elena noticed. She'd seen Caroline drunk a few too many times, but it was Bonnie that surprised her by eagerly downing the first of many tequila shots to come.

That was, of course, until she saw the newest patron to the Grill perched up on a bar stool. Tonight was _not_ supposed to involve Salvatores, and Elena was furious. With her head held high, and only a few close calls on tripping, she marched over to vampire and hit his shoulder, only half as hard as she'd meant to.

"What are you doing here, Stefan?" She practically yelled, and thankfully no one was the wiser as the crowded bar seemed to drown out her voice. The somber boy just sighed, and looked her over, that ever-present disapproving expression climbing on his face.

"You're drunk, Elena." He noted, and grabbed her arm lightly, "Come on, I'll take you home."

Elena was definitely not in the mood to be treated like a child and wrenched her limb out of his grasp.

"No, you will not. I didn't come here just to leave when things get fun." She said indignantly, her arms crossing firmly over her chest. She had no idea why she was acting like it was Stefan's fault, but she knew damn well she didn't want to be watched all night as if she were a porcelain doll that had just been thrown into a bull pit. It was her choice to be here, and it will be her choice to leave. Later.

"Yeah, come on baby brother," said an all-too familiar voice that almost made Elena's heart stop all together, "Let the girl have some fun. Remember that concept? Fun… something that provides mirth, or amusement. You should try it sometime."

Elena whirled around to face Damon, however her balance was off and she stumbled slightly forward. Damon made no move to catch her, but he didn't duck out of the way to let her fall, either. It might've been her state of mind, but she didn't hear the casual playful tone that he used when teasing his brother. What she heard was more annoyance and bitterness than anything else.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "Just what I needed tonight. _Both_ of you."

Damon just scoffed, "Hey, unlike Bambi-killer over here, I came for the alcohol, _not_ for you."

Without saying another word, Stefan left the bar, and Elena went back to her new and old friends, and Damon remained where the majority of the alcohol stayed.

With her newfound sense of indulgence, Elena was pulling out all the stops. Dancing with the boys, with girls, accepting drinks from strangers – if she'd never done it before, she was doing it now. Hell, she even ate an entire piece of chocolate fudge cheesecake by herself, even attempting to stab Caroline's hand when she tried to steal some. With a fork, of course.

As many times as she'd tried to keep her little party going, she kept looking to where Damon sat, wanting to catch him looking back, but not once did he. So Elena did what any girl would do, she ignored him right back. And as the guys ordered another round of shots for last call, Elena didn't notice as Damon slipped out of the Grill, leaving her and her new friends to play.

"_Get out."_


	4. Savior

_**A/N: Warning, this chapter is short and has mature themes. Do not read if you can't handle intense situations. And have no fear! Delena love is coming next chapter!! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! You guys are awesome, and fuel my fire! Let me know what you think, all input is always welcome, and if you have any ideas feel free to share! We all are after the same thing :) 3 **_

_**Oh, and I still have not acquired ownership of the Vampire Diaries. **_

"Get off me!"

Elena fought and screamed with everything she had, scratching and biting, attempting to punch or kick, but to no avail. In her completely drunken state she was lucky she hadn't just passed out already. Somehow their group had gotten seperated, with Bonnie and Caroline going with the other two boys, and Elena with this _creep_ that had decided it was time for things to get heated. She may be drunk, but fooling around in an alley was not Elena's idea of a good time. Apparently this guy didn't take rejection all too well, and in the back of her mind she remembered why getting this inebriated was not a good idea for any girl.

He had her pinned against a wall, his large foot-ball player-esque frame completely encumbering her small body. Tears were welling up in her eyes, making it difficult for her to see, but that didn't stop her from attempting to flail around desperately trying to free herself. The man, Robert, she thought his name was, easily grabbed her hands and forced them up over her head with one of his own. Elena cried out, but knew it was futile, for it was almost two in the morning and this alleyway was far too dark, and it was a bit of a distance from the main road. No one was coming.

She prayed Bonnie and Caroline were okay.

Robert was grasping at her shirt now, trying viciously to tear it from her body, and Elena sobbed and screamed for him to stop.

And he did.

It had all happened so fast, and without even realizing how it did manage to happen, she ran barefoot through the alleyway, those streetlights her saving grace of safety once she made it to the main road. She didn't stop running. She couldn't be far enough away from that alleyway, or even that street, until her lungs were searing with pain and she collapsed in a children's park, climbing shakily up the vibrant red staircase that lead to the jungle gym and high-towered platform that held the top of the slide. There is where she curled into a ball, sobbing as quietly as she could manage into her knees, hugging her legs tightly to her as if they could protect her.

She remained still as a statue for what felt like hours, wishing that she hadn't lost her purse in the scuffle so she could call Bonnie and Caroline and make sure they were okay, or call anyone to come get her for that matter. The top of that playground was the safest place in the world to her at the moment, and the shock of it all prevented her from moving a muscle to get down.

And then she heard the rocks sashaying under the weight of a footstep, her whole body was wrought with that familiar trembling panic, her breath catching in her throat tightly. She heard it again, and with every bit of strength left in her, lifted her head from her knees to see no one standing in the bed pebbles that secured the children's structure.

"You alright?"

Her head whirled to her right as she instinctively backed away from the source of the voice, and upon seeing the familiar figure, dove into Damon's arms, once more sobbing, and clutching, then finally slipping into unconcsiousness.

This wasn't Damon's idea of a good time either. In fact, when he'd heard the screams, he knew full-well it was Elena. He didn't care. At least, he told himself that he didn't for the first moment, and even as he was going lightning speed toward her, was _still_ telling himself that he didn't care. He'd convinced himself that it was two meals for the price of one, but even he was able to recognize lying to himself as he saw her, crying against the brick, thrashing violently against her attacker. If Elena was going to die, this was not how it would be. Not to some inbred trash that probably got dropped too many times as a baby.

Damon had torn out the pervert's throat without a moment to consider his actions, and remained feasting on him until he heard Elena's quick footsteps hightailing it out of alley. He could have just let her go, gone back home, and no one would be the wiser. She would just assume it'd been Stefan, or some good citizen doing his duty to protect the women of the town. He knew when she'd think back to her savior, Damon's face would not appear as a candidate.

Perhaps that's why he followed her to the playground, to prove her assumptions wrong. He wanted to rub it in her face that Saint Stefan had not been the one to save her. He wanted break down her world as she breaks down his, with every tick of the count that reminds him that she's not _her. _She's _not_ Katherine.

And it just keeps going. She keeps breaking him, and he can't control it as he sees her, listens to her heaving breaths that shake as they escape her lungs, her pounding heartbeat that throbs in his ears. He feels it in his own veins, and his fists clench unconcsiously at his sides. This frail little girl has no idea how close she is to the edge of life itself when he's near her. Every moment he's fighting his own reserve to not make it stop right there, to end that insissent, never-ending heartbeat, to even the score and shape her new life to suit his needs.

He breaks upon every note that makes them different. What kills him more, is the potential Elena holds. She didn't have to be fragile. She didn't have to helpless and insecure. She could be strong. She could be malicious, and calculated.

She _could_ be Katherine.

When she dives into his arms, it's Elena. When she succumbs to her exhaustion, it's Elena's motionless form. Elena's heartbeat that slows in her sleeping state. Elena's hair that he brushes out of Katherine's face.

It was time to go home. Damon Salvatore was officially losing his mind.


End file.
